Monday, 11 January 2016

I read the worse thing on Facebook today."David Bowie, 69, Dies of Cancer"

I felt numb all over. A contradiction of not wanting to hear it, know that it's true, and the need to run around and grab everyone and tell them "BOWIE'S DEAD! BOWIE'S DEAD! HOW CAN THIS BE??" perhaps with a hope that someone will turn around and tell me the internet lied. That it was a stunt, a typo, a prank.

When I got to tell Louis, over chat of course, his answer was : "Yeah. Strange. He's always been there. :( "

And I realised he was so right.

He was there when I was growing up, hearing my parents mention his music, play it sometimes, Let's Dance and specifically Ground Control to Major Tom, where my dad and mum would sing to it, and I would find it so very very sad that I couldn't understand why they liked it so much (something that would change as I grew older) .

I remember Heroes from a Q magazine CD compilation when I was a teen, and becoming enthralled by his make up and get ups.

He was there when I was told that the Nirvana tune I was hypnotised by was originally his, and I started to put pieces together and look into him more and more.

He was there as a soundtrack to our class video at university, a video aimed at the new recruits, to introduce them to us and to the design department. "Under Pressure" fit the bill perfectly when it came to describing the lifestyle of graphic design students..

He was there when I started to DJ at local bars, in all shapes and sizes, when I wanted to groove, or when I was angry, bitter, needing to take a stance, and would spin "I'm Afraid of Americans" featuring NIN, stamping my foot to the beat and feeling the rage.

I still can't believe David Bowie has died.

Someone that size can't simply disappear, can they?

On supbowie.com, a website that tells you what David Bowie was doing at any age you enter, if you punch in 70, you get this : He’s probably an astronaut. Or an extraterrestrial being. Or something we can’t comprehend.

How damningly fitting.

I like to think he's gone home. A starman back to star dust. Always a star. Always.

Read Me Always

about her

She's a paranoid girl on the little wing. she's been waiting for the mad hatter's invitation.
When she stays up late, she sees white bunnies in the corners of her eyes. they're always late, and they always ramble.